Witchcraft: Hermione becoming Granger
by ElizabethBlack-7
Summary: The second of my friend's Witchcraft series about the prominent and behind the scenes women of Harry Potter. This one is definitely AU surrounding the birth of Hermione and subsequently becoming a Granger through adoption. Father not specifically said so you guys can use your imagination! Enjoy!


**Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter, just the plot and the OC.**

**A/N: "S" in this story can either be Sirius or Severus, depending on your preference for an AU where Hermione is adopted and her father is either one of those men.**

Witchcraft: Hermione becoming Granger

September 21, 1979; London, England; 9:08pm

It had been six months, six months since she had left him with nothing but a thorny rose like her name and the lingering sent of her perfume throughout the flat. No matter what his friends said to him, nothing had been able to bring him out of his rut, not drinking, not smoking, not sex with random women, not even fighting for what he thought was right in this accursed war. And now, six months later, an owl came and pecked on his dirty window. Rolling out of bed and stumbling over dirty clothing from the last couple of months, he opened the window to let in a snowy owl. The fall breeze cut at his face as he quickly grabbed the note and let the owl back out into the world.

The note was tied with periwinkle blue ribbon, her favorite color, and as his hands shook, he quickly opened the note, eyes turning dark and darker, tears spilling down his checks. His dark hair hung limp around his face, oily from the lack of showering. Her absence had taken a toll on him, one he was not happy to admit but a fact his friends brought up every time he saw them. His sadness and anger grew before he threw the note down and stormed to the bathroom to get ready to go drinking and find a willing witch to share a bed with for the night. He needed to sell the flat; it was too painful of a reminder of everything he had lost.

_S,_

_I'm sorry I left but I'm not sorry at the same time. She deserved a better life, our daughter. Yes, I was three months pregnant when I left all those months ago. We were unfit to be parents. A pair of misfits who drink too much and fight in a war that has no foreseeable end, it was not the world I wished to bring a child into. I thought you deserved an explanation so here it goes:_

_I found out I was pregnant just before you left to go to a fight, seven months ago. It was a cold March day and I had thought it was just the flu, but a trip to Saint Mungo's told me otherwise. I knew I only had a few weeks left to enjoy your company and what we had, so I made the best of it before I left when you were out with your friends, drinking and smoking. As my parents are dead I did not know whom to turn to until I received an invitation to tea from my Aunts. I have several squib aunts, as you know but most likely had forgotten, and I immediately went to live with one of them, staying with her through my pregnancy before we went to France for the birth of our darling daughter. I will tell you this; she was born on September 19, 1979 at 4:30am 6lbs 10oz. and my mop of curly brown hair. I think she will look like me but have some of your features, or even my parents' features._

_Yes, I gave birth to our darling girl in France, London was too dangerous and I knew a family, a pair of muggles my Aunt was friendly with, who were getting their doctorates in France before going back to England to open a practice. I won't say what field because that will make it easier to track her down. Don't go looking for her, she'll find out on her 21__st__ birthday if all participants in this survive. I hope you survive too, to get to know the wonderful girl I know our daughter will grow into._

_We were not fit to be parent, you and I, and I know I've made the right choice here. Do not hate me, or rather, do not hate your daughter. I take full responsibility for my actions and I hope you realize that she, our daughter, will be much better cared for with a pair of unsuspecting and loving muggles, well one of my many squib aunts who married a muggle, who cannot have anymore children of their own due to complications with their first child, a daughter who died because she was born too early. I hope you move on from me, I won't be coming back, it's not fair to either of us, after the pain I've caused you. Please know, that I will always love you, but I could not stay anymore, my conscience wouldn't let me. Don't come looking for me, I'll probably be dead in a few year as it is._

_I love you and I hope you move on to a better woman,_

_Thorn Rose Figg_

Later that night, he stumbled back to into his flat, only to see that the letter from his beloved Thorn had caught fire, charring everything except her signature, the last words from the woman he had come to love and he would forever cherish them, knowing that she was more than likely dead and her daughter, his daughter, their daughter was lost to him forever. Crying himself to sleep, he promised himself this would be the last time he cried because of love and he would never love a woman again, it was just too painful.

September 26, 1979; Paris, France; 7:15pm

On the other side of the channel, the Granger Family sat down with Arabella, Lucinda, Matilda and Thorn Figg for dinner. Arabella Figg was leaving back to England tomorrow while Matilda Figg, the second youngest of the remaining Figg sisters, was set to travel around Europe with her eldest sister, Lucinda, who wished to see all of Europe before her death. Thorn, who had just given birth to baby Hermione Jean just a week ago, had officially signed custody of her daughter over to the youngest sister, Jean Granger née Figg. Pierre Granger, was happily holding his new daughter, an accomplishment he had been so sure was just out of reach after the death of their daughter Yvette, just under a year ago.

"Thorn," Jean spoke suddenly, getting the younger girls attention. Even at 30, Jean was still only ten years older than her niece and sometimes felt Thorn was more of a sister than her elder brother's daughter and only child.

"Yes Jeannie."

"Will you be coming with us to the airport tomorrow to see Ara back to England and Tilda and Linda to Germany?"

"Yes, I don't see why not. I was thinking, I know I'm dying, the sickness that took my mother has been slowly taking me, something I hope I did not pass on to my darling Hermione, but I would like to live and die here, being my daughter's Aunt Rosie, if that's ok?" Everyone's eyes welled with tears at the thought that the once vivacious and sarcastic Thorn knew of her death and was still trying to be there for the daughter she was forced to give up.

"Yes, of course, we'll need all the help we can get. And when you do, when you do die," Jean's voice got sticky as her throat closed up and her eyes welled with tear, "should we invite him to the funeral, S- well him-"

"His name is-" Matilda began before she was cut off by Thorn.

"Don't say his name. It hurts too much, knowing I left the love of my life behind to possibly die in the war and knowing I couldn't ever let him meet his daughter. I know he won't recognize her when she reenters the Wizarding World, because he will have forgotten about me. I just hope I'm alive long enough to take Hermione to Diagon Alley for the first time, but I know my time is shorter, much shorter, than the 11 years I need to stay alive for."

Dinner, after a long bought of crying between the last remaining Figgs, ended when Hermione started to cry in hunger. Magic, being one of the most wonderful and mysterious things it is, had allowed Jean to use Thorn's breast milk instead of a formula, the amount that there was, was enough to last two years if need be. Thorn stared at Jean as she fed her daughter-no, Jean's daughter now, Thorn reminded herself- and could not help but be envious that her Aunt would be raising her daughter for her. Then she thought about how much Jean and Pierre wanted a child and knew she had made the right decision.

September 31, 1985; Paris, France; 10:53am

The sky had opened up and the clouds dark clouds were letting their own special tears fall to the earth as Thorn Rose Figg was buried. She had survived the disease longer than anyone had suspected and for that, Jean Granger was thankful, because it allowed her daughter a chance to know her biological mother, even if she had always been Aunt Rosie or Tante Rosie. The Granger had moved back to England 2-and-a-half years ago, leaving the apartment they lived in to Thorn.

"Mummy," 6-year-old Hermione pulled on Jean's dress, desperately trying to get her mother's attention. "Why are we burying Tante Rosie?" Jean started crying more, causing Hermione to cry with her even if she didn't full understand what was happening.

"We're burying your Aunt Rosie because she died, which means she's gone to Heaven now. It was her time to go, something none of us can control. She was sick for a long time and she lived much longer than anyone suspected." Luckily, there had been a test that came out in the early 1980's, after the fall of that mad Wizard who had caused a war for all Witches and Wizards. Thorn had got the test and preformed it on Hermione as she slept, the three year old never woke up and they results came back several days later saying Hermione did not inherit the disease, a blessing for all.

"Why did she have to die, Mummy? Why couldn't she stay with us?" Jean pulled her daughter into a hug as the Priest finished the ceremony and the gravediggers got to work filling in the grave. Pierre came over and picked Hermione up, careful that her small Mary-Jane's didn't get his suit dirty

"She's in a better place now, ma cherie, she would want you to be happy and smiling," Pierre's words gave his daughter comfort as he carried her back to the black car and the funeral procession started up again, and the Granger family made their way back to the hotel they were staying at.

Several days later, it was sunny and cloudless, the wind was blowing and the leaves were falling but the sunshine left Hermione feeling warm in her long-sleeved shirt and jacket. The Granger family had made their way over to the headstone of their recently departed relative. There had been no members of the Figg family present at the funeral, Lucinda having died in Italy while she and her sister Matilda traveled through Europe, Matilda having run off with another squib after the trauma of finding her dead sister, moved to America and died in a car accidents a year ago, and Arabella had been forced to watch over a boy in the awful town of Little Whinging, Surrey, until he was old enough to know about his heritage, something Arabella had written to Thorn about in a rage that she could not tell this Harry Potter about his family. Thorn had been sympathy but hadn't really made much of a fuss, but that could have been because she was too sick to do much of anything.

Of the Granger's, who had accepted Thorn into their lives with ease since Hermione had come, M. and Mme. Granger, otherwise known as Grand-père Charles and Grand-mère Marie, Oncle Henri and Tante Sophie and their sons and daughter; Eugène, Louis and Simone, had been all that was left of the once prominent French family to attend the funeral.

Hermione rushed forward, and hugged the headstone tightly to her, crying and wailing about how it wasn't fair that her Auntie was dead! She calmed down after 10 minutes and sat back on her heels, kneeling in the freshly packed dirt and ruining her brand-new corduroys, something her parents couldn't fault her for. Tracing the words on the headstone, Hermione read,

"Thorn Rose Figg

"September 5, 1959-Septmeber 25, 1985

"Loving Sister, Loving Aunt, Her love knew no bounds, always flowing freely to those who deserved it

"Vous serez toujours aimé"

"Aunt Rosie, I'm naming my first daughter Rose, for you, I love you," Hermione kiss the stone and walked over to rejoin her parents who grasped her hands as they left.

September 19, 2000; London, England; 10:00am

"Mum, Père, what is it?" Hermione asked only slightly annoyed. She had been called home on her 21st birthday, a birthday she had planned to spend with Ron who had hinted that he would be proposing to her today.

"Hermione, there is something we need to tell you," her mother started before Mrs. Figg, whom Harry had introduced her to after the Final Battle, came in. Confused, Hermione sat down with Mrs. Figg right across from her with her parents next to Mrs. Figg.

"What?"

"We love you and we would have told you sooner but we promised not to. You see, your Aunt Rosie, well, she was your birth mother." At Hermione's shocked gasp, Jean began to cry and Pierre and Mrs. Figg started on the painful story that led to Hermione's birth and growing up in with people who were actually her Great Aunt and Great Uncle. As the story wound down, Hermione found that she was not as upset as she would have been, had she been 16 or even 18 and found this out. One question had not been answered though,

"Who is my biological father then?" The room grew silent and the three on the couch in front of Hermione looked at each other before Jean whipped her eyes and sighed.

"We actually don't know. The only person who actually knew was your mother, and your great Aunt Matilda who had been dead longer than your mother. We know his name began with an S and he was in the same year as her but a different House, yes both your parents were magical, but as far as we know, he's also dead as the only two men she ever interacted with whose names began with S died between 1996 and 1998."

"Wait! That could mean either Severus Snape, who died in 1998 or Sirius Black, who died in 1996, one of them could be my father! Was mum a pureblood or a halfblood?"

"We're halfbloods dear," Mrs. Figg, who insisted Hermione call her Aunt Ara or Arabella, answered in her polite yet crackly voice.

"Also, why do people call you Mrs. Figg, Arabella?" Hermione had hundreds of questions going through her head but all she could get out were ridiculously invasive questions that she didn't think she had a right to know at the present.

"Well, I married my third cousin, who was also a squib, Rufus Figg, we had one child, also a squib, but she married some muggle or muggleborn and had a magical child, I think his name Turpines or Turpentine or something like that."

"Turpin? As in Lisa Turpin, my Artithmacy partner has been my cousin this entire time!" Hermione's head was swimming with more and more questions before Jean placed a package in her hand. It was a box, containing photos of her and her mother and letters from her mother to herself and her birth certificate. She hoped, after some exploring she would be able to find out the identity of her biological father. For now, she would keep all this information to herself, it would not do to tell Ron something that would set him off on her birthday of all days. But for now, she was happy, happy that her mother, knowing she was to die, had given her to a family that had loved and cherished her above all else, even if it meant hiding her identity and that of her father's from father and daughter.

Hermione left abruptly and took the train to Paris, where she made her way to her Aunt, well mother's gravestone, a tradition she vowed to start now until she died.

"I love you, mother, thank you," she whispered as she kissed the cold headstone, like she had done so many years ago when the woman had first been buried. The wind blew and Hermione swore she heard a whispered,

"You're welcome."

* * *

FIGG FAMILY TREE:

Pius Figg-Cornelia Burke

Lucinda Figg Ryan Figg-Ella Quirke Arabella Figg-Rufus Figg Matilda Figg Jean Figg-Pierre Granger

S.?-Thorn Rose Sarah—-Michael Turpin Hermione*-Ron Weasley

Hermione Jean Lisa Turpin-Marcus Bradley Rose Figg W. Hugo Ronald W.

Rufus Marcus Michael Raymond Arabelle Cordelia


End file.
